


And God Said

by QueenStrata (yodepalma)



Series: Almostageddon, Take Two [2]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Footnotes, Humor, M/M, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Pre-Slash, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yodepalma/pseuds/QueenStrata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Aziraphale has a chat with God, and finds out more about God, Crowley, and himself than he’d ever wanted to know.</p><p>Prelude to The End of the Beginning, written rather after the fact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And God Said

**Author's Note:**

> Being reposted for posterity blah blah blah. This scene technically comes before The End of the Beginning, but I wrote it some time after and prefer having it read afterwards anyway. So here it is. Yay!
> 
> (Aziraphale says "Er..." four times in this story. Four. What the heck was my brain doing?)

_And God Said_

"Aziraphale." 

Aziraphale looked up irritably and scowled at the Metatron. The Voice glared right back, though there was something like triumph sparkling in his eyes. Aziraphale and the Metatron had been at odds since the original Apocalypse—Metatron thought Aziraphale was a traitor; Aziraphale thought Metatron was a prat (though he would never admit to that out loud). Their relations hadn't gotten any better when Aziraphale was brought to Heaven for the second time and wasn't even given a trial. All in all, it made for a rather strained working environment. 

"Do you need something?" Aziraphale asked politely. 

"The Lord wishes to speak with you," Metatron replied just as politely. "He hasn't given a reason as to why, but He assure me it is urgent. You had better not keep him waiting." 

"I wouldn't dream of it," Aziraphale responded innocently, smiling blandly as a look of confusion crossed the other's face. "Is He in His tent?" 

Metatron winced.(1) "Where else would he be? You know He loves that thing." 

"Yes, quite," Aziraphale sighed. "Thank you for relaying the message, Lord. Try not to follow me this time?" Metatron stared at him. "I'm not as oblivious as I seem, you know." With one final bland smile at the Voice's annoyed face, Aziraphale got up from the table he was sitting at and took off.

@-'---

Aziraphale really, really did not like being nervous. In fact, he would have said he _hated_ the frustrating emotion, but he was an angel and incapable of hatred, so he had to settle for disliking it. It really could get quite annoying. 

Especially now, when he dare not feel anything bad, because God would feel it and he would be risking getting kicked out. There could be nothing good about Falling—especially not during the middle of the Apocalypse. 

Except, maybe, getting the chance to see Crowley again. And then he could tell the demon what he really thought, and with any luck— 

Right. Stopping his train of thought right there. What he really thought wasn't currently worth thinking. 

Aziraphale warily entered the tent, and automatically felt like the smallest being in existence. God tended to have that effect when He wasn't paying attention to His surroundings and, right now, He appeared to be very absorbed in a card game. Nervously, Aziraphale cleared his throat. 

"There's no need to be so nervous, child," God said distractedly, putting another card on one of His piles and turning down His superiority effect. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then moved a pile onto the card He'd just put down and grinned. After a couple more moves, there were only three piles on His table. "Now then, we need to talk." 

"What about, Lord?" Aziraphale asked in a small voice, half curious, half scared. 

"Don't be scared either," God chided softly, and Aziraphale's fear immediately dissipated. God was apparently impatient. "We have too much to speak of to deal with that. I need you on Earth tonight or this plan of mine is doomed." 

"Er...what do I need to be there for, Lord?" Aziraphale asked uncertainly, not entirely sure he had any right to be asking God any questions. 

"To find Crowley, of course—and don't look so shocked, of course I knew! All part of my plan, you realize." 

"Crowley and I are major parts of the Ineffable Plan?" Aziraphale asked blankly. 

"Well, you weren't at first," God admitted rather sheepishly. "But you know, times change and all that. I was a bit new at this whole omnipotent thing when I started." 

"What?" Aziraphale asked. 

"Never mind, child. It's not anything you're in need of knowing. All _you_ must know are the reasons you must get together with Crowley. 

"First of all, I'm getting dreadfully tired of this war." Aziraphale stared at him. "Well, I had to make it happen since I said it would happen." 

"But...I thought you missed the Apocalypse the first time around?" the angel said in a small voice. "Six thousand years and all that." 

"Man's mistake," God waved the protest off. "I never gave a specific time period for which the world would continue its existence. Man did it for effect—artistic license, if you will—and everyone else just jumped on the bandwagon. You are, of course, the first being besides Lucifer I have ever truly told my plans to." 

"Er...thank you?" Aziraphale ventured, very carefully ignoring the fact that God and the Morning Star were on a first name basis, as it were. The thought, like several of his previous thoughts, was very much not worth thinking. 

God waved the comment off. "You have something akin to Free Will, Aziraphale. I could not allow _you_ to do as I ask simply from blind faith. Anyway, back on topic. I need you and Crowley around because, well, _someone_ has to watch over the new humans and I don't see why it has to be me all the time. I think I would rather like to take short vacations every once in a while." 

"Er...but why me?" Aziraphale asked, refusing to dwell on the next thought that had gotten lodged in his brain, which stated quite firmly that he was horribly inept at being an angel. 

"Precisely!" God grinned. "I couldn't do this with anyone else, you know. I'd have to wait for any other pairs to decide how to go about living together without killing each other and then learn how to get along—and, you know, it took you and Crowley about four thousand years to accomplish the feat and I really don't feel like waiting." 

"Er...," Aziraphale said, entirely unsure how he could respond to everything he was being told. God smiled at him, and he quickly attempted to come up with something intelligent to say. "I have to go get Crowley myself then?" he asked lamely. God nodded. "Why? Don't you think he might just attack me out of duty?" 

"You underestimate your friend, my child," God returned softly, looking rather disheartened. Aziraphale wanted to apologize, but couldn't get his mouth to form the words. "He is much fonder of you than you could ever care to think—and you, despite all evidence to the contrary, love him with all that you are." 

Aziraphale gapped wordlessly at Him. 

"Some proof, I should think," God murmured, and snapped His fingers. 

Aziraphale turned his attention to the image that had suddenly appeared, staring blankly at it for a minute before he realized what it was. 

It was Hell. Aziraphale was watching a scene from one of the rather numerous lakes of fire. Before his stunned eyes, a large group of demons and tortured souls, all apparently enjoying themselves, appeared on the banks of the lake. Seconds after that, a party of large demons walked into the image, prodding a certain other demon (still in his human body) in front of them. On the opposite side of the lake of fire, a scrawny-looking demon stepped forward, holding a flaming whip in one hand and grinning widely. 

Without him ever realizing it, Aziraphale's hands balled tightly into fists. 

The scrawny demon talked for a minute or so, Crowley wincing every time he appeared to speak. Then the demon snapped his whip—and Crowley was shoved into the fiery water, mouth opened as if he was screaming. Aziraphale thought he could even hear an echo of the noise. 

For a moment, the only thing the angel felt was terror. Then his mind caught up with his eyes and two emotions vied desperately for command of his body. He wanted to jump into the image and save Crowley, hold the demon in his arms and never let go; he wanted to grab the demon who had ordered Crowley's torture by the neck and force it into the fire itself. He staggered from the sudden onslaught of the most powerful emotions he had ever felt, and was only saved from collapse by God's supporting hand. 

"...When do I leave?" Aziraphale asked weakly, once he'd gotten a hold of himself. 

God just smiled and snapped his fingers again. 

Not even a moment later, Aziraphale appeared in the midst of a group of the angels he led. He looked around at every startled face and smiled a grim, determined smile. 

"Sarelil," he said, a slight growl in his voice. Said angel jumped to his feet and tried not to shake. "Follow me." 

(1) The only thing the two of them agreed on was that God's choice of an abode was horrendous—Metatron disliked it because it was so _human_ ; Aziraphale because it was a _tent_ , and why didn't He just make an entire building with all that power of His?


End file.
